


HISTORY OF AVIATION

by musicalwhim



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: F/M, Love, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-03-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:29:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23021740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicalwhim/pseuds/musicalwhim
Summary: ❝ YOU ARE THE INK TO MY QUILL ❞【Ａ．　Ｈａｍ　＆　Ｒｅａｄｅｒ】【Ｔｈｉｓ　ｓｔｏｒｙ　ｗｉｌｌ　ｄｅａｌ　ｗｉｔｈ　ｓｅｒｉｏｕｓ　ｔｈｅｍｅｓ，　ｗｈｉｃｈ　ｉｎｃｌｕｄｅｓ，　ｓｅｘ，　ａｎｄ　ｇｏｒｅ．　Ｂｅｓｉｄｅｓ　ｔｈｏｓｅ　ｎｏｔｅｓ，　ｅｎｊｏｙ　ｔｈｅ　ｓｔｏｒｙ！】
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton & Reader, George Washington & Reader, George Washington/Martha Washington
Kudos: 1





	HISTORY OF AVIATION

* * *

**【Ｗｏｒｄ Ｃｏｕｎｔ １３７０】**

**【Ａ． Ｈａｍ ＆ Ｒｅａｄｅｒ】**

**THE SNOW ON THE MOUNTAIN** showered the hills delicately, creating an intricate and elegant speckled design that the drudge would admire once and a while. You doubled back in agony as the lash marked your back. You blinked back tears of frustration. 

God, how you wanted to leave.

You couldn't leave your brother. Five-year-old, Adebowale, or James as the slave masters called him, had witnessed your initial endeavor to escape. It ended horribly. He was a rather petite boy with dark caramel skin and hazel eyes always twinkled mischievously. His tight curls were fairly long with natural rustic crimson highlights. 

Adebowale always considered himself your brother even though he was conceived from a non-consensual relationship between his mother and the slave master, William Jones. Adebowale never understood his birthright and he most likely would never learn it until he would come of age. Their days would consist of lengthy toiling hours of cotton picking and occasionally doing house chores if you both were fortuitous enough. Typically the women and children would do the housework, while the men performed more laborious tasks. However, you were not as lucky. You would hear the slave masters gossip about you being well-bred as they called it. Before his initial passing, your father had the strength of an ox, and because of that, you were always put on the more heavyweight duties. Since Adebowale was only a mere child, you barely ever saw him, due to his duties in the kitchen. 

However, today Adebowale was laboring in the field alongside you. The stinging from the lash still remained.

”Hurry, Adebowale, ” You seethed quietly, beckoning him toward you. He wordlessly relinquished your request. His lower lip trembled gently as he lightly struck your shoulder. You sighed in exasperation and surveyed the region in case there the proprietor was watching. 

”I'm hungry, ” Adebowale whimpered, tugging at his braided strands of hair. 

”This is the third time this week, ” You murmured, softly unweaving his threads. Grains spilled from the cornrows and gently trickled into your palm. 

”Hurry, before Jones see!”

You thrust the sustenance into his hands and he funneled it into his throat. The meal was unbearably dry, nonetheless, it was still food. Nowadays, due to insurrection, the fare was beginning to run short. Adebowale wheezed a moment before speaking. 

”I left some for you, _dada mkubwa._ ” Your brother enunciated, in their native tongue.

You shook your head, ”You’re growing, _kaka yangu_.”

The whistle noised loudly and the laborers began retreated to their respective quarters. With a bite of the lip, Adebowale departed from you. You let out a shuddering sigh and slinked away to your shared cabin.

As soon as you stepped foot inside the insufficient lodge, an unappealing odor filled the air.

”What on Earth is that ungodly stench?” You inquired Kwame.

Kwame was a stocky built Ghanaian teen, that often toiled alongside you in the cotton fields. He wasn't a very emotional boy and was extremely reserved. Initially, he came from a tribe neighboring yours. That is until, the colonizers raided his lands, massacred his people, and left his village in ash and dust. He and others from his village were brought from Africa to the States. Very few lived the journey.

His dark skin shimmered beautifully in the night. You loved the way his soft, tight, curls draped on his stocky shoulders. He was easily 6’5, and whenever he embraced you, he towered over you, even though you were relatively tall. Of course, with this beautiful boy in front of you, you couldn't resist him. However, when you confided your emotions for the teen, he politely told you he didn't return the feelings. That was surprisingly okay for the you, you got the feelings out, however, she still was not satisfied. You would always put his feelings over yours own. Of course, you harbored emotions for him, and with respect, you would never push your feelings over his.

”Kwame?” You spoke, your voice bubbling with uneasiness.

The slaves only spoke their African names around each other. They were each renamed, to a more ”unsavage name” as the masters called them. Kwame’s replacement name was, ”Toby”, however, none of his comrades would dare dub him as Toby. Once, a newcomer called him his ”replacement name”, and he was blown to a bloody pulp. Kwame would harshly scold anyone who dared to call their fellow companions' names slave masters labeled them. He would constantly remind them that, ” our ancestors gifted us these names for a reason. We must not forget where we come from. For we only work on the white man's land, it is our job to preserve our cultures for those to come after us.”

”It’s an Abioye.” Kwame mumbled with a seldom appearance. You positioned a hand on his shoulder as consolation.

”What about Abioye?” You replied tentatively, closing your eyes. Besides Kwame, Abioye, the eldest on the plantation, knew of his culture and tribe.

”He's sick.” Kwame answered almost wordlessly. The breath was blown out of your lungs. Antagonistic thoughts began to flow freely through your mind.

”What did Jones say?” You countered immediately. Tears began to gather into your irises. Abioye was always prone to sickness, however this, you knew was different. A deadly virus had been going around the plantation, slaying almost everyone who had come down with the illness.

”It's not like he cares anyway.” Kwame replied, running his hands through his curls. His fists were clenched together. You swallowed before he could reply, ” If Jones won't give it to us then we must get it ourselves.”

He glared at you, his pupils were blown wide, ” That's too risky.” His back straightened. Your jaw latched, ”If you're not going to do it, I will.”

”No-”

”Think about-”

”I seem to be the only one that's thinking-” Kwame was abruptly cut off.

”We have no other options-”

”I can’t risk losing-” Kwame began speaking but faltered.

Your cheeks flushed a deathly shade of crimson. You furiously began to berate yourself. He had told you himself that he hadn't harbored any attraction of any sort toward you.

It seemed as if he had reddened as well.

”I will not be dictated by you, or anybody for that matter.” You fiercely asserted. His hair draped over his eyes. He glimmering green eyes shut gently.

”I suppose I can't stop you.” He acknowledged, moving closer to you with a blank look on his face.

”You’ve guessed correctly.”

You could feel his hot breath on your face. You leaned closer. She had dreamt of this day. Suddenly, Kwame halted his movements, and you could spot the fainted smile curving his lips.

”Then I suppose I'm obligated to help you.”

***

The snow still hadn't ceased its rain in the mountains. The cabin was chilling, with water periodically seeping from the canopy. The estate was seen in the far distance and you commenced to climb from your area on the straw bed. 

”Kwame.” You proceeded to shake the older awake. He was awakened in a flash.

”Jesus Christ,” He shot up from the bed like a speeding bullet emerging from a pistol. You gave a melodic laugh, and he gradually rose from the straw accommodations. His muscles contracted and a delightful pop sound was heard. 

”Hurry your ass up!” You spoke, hauling him forward. He bemoaned forfeiting his hours of sleep, however once his dazed state evaporated, he was on his toes ready for your crusade. Then you both commenced to slink into the shed for supplies concealed by the night.

On the contrary, nothing remotely interesting was found in the shed, but you both took what you could find. 

The slack door hinge creaked ever so slightly, and you whisked away into the darkness.

**Author's Note:**

> 【Ｔｈｉｓ ｓｔｏｒｙ ｗｉｌｌ ｄｅａｌ ｗｉｔｈ ｓｅｒｉｏｕｓ ｔｈｅｍｅｓ， ｗｈｉｃｈ ｉｎｃｌｕｄｅｓ， ｓｅｘ， ａｎｄ ｇｏｒｅ． Ｂｅｓｉｄｅｓ ｔｈｏｓｅ ｎｏｔｅｓ， ｅｎｊｏｙ ｔｈｅ ｓｔｏｒｙ！】


End file.
